“Ha, what on earth.”

What I remembered was the vibration that felt like the world was shaking.

The buggy, weighing over several hundred kilograms and nearing a ton, had reached a speed of 80 km/h before crashing into the ground, resulting in immense inertia. It was normal for the body to lurch forward and launch into the air, but unfortunately, the frame of the buggy was far too narrow for ejecting a person.

As I awkwardly bounced out of the hard seat, every bone in my body shattered, and as soon as my head smashed into the front of the vehicle, my neck vertebrae broke gruesomely. By that point, death was already certain, but the explosion of the vehicle sealed the fate.

Flames filled my vision.

Even with standard pressure applied, the world could crumble due to just one variable that I couldn’t have anticipated, turning a victory into a defeat for the winner and a victory for the loser… or should I say?

I was rarely caught with a dumbfounded expression, organizing my thoughts on the bed, but how many seconds had passed since then?

Someone who had heard the news of my elimination knocked mercilessly on the door I had been in.

“Lancer, Lancer! Is Carmen here?”

“Yes, come in.”

As the door opened, my coach entered. Yet, he too bore a bewildered expression, unable to hide the look of someone who had just been struck hard. The difference between the deceased and those who witnessed the scene was practically as thin as a piece of paper.

The brief silence didn’t last long, and the coach struggled to speak first.

“…Didn’t you see the canister launch?”

“Did you see it, Coach?”

He shook his head in despair. He must have checked from first-person, third-person, and free view numerous times. But if he couldn’t confirm it himself, how could anyone else have seen it?

The noise from the chain gun mounted on the vehicle, the flame from the muzzle, the uncomfortable frame that obscured the buggy’s unique perspective, and the rapidly changing situation… all the small variables I hadn’t paid attention to never acted directly. Instead, they merely complicated the identification of the significant variables that one couldn’t help but notice.

The result was this.

The coach, having carefully pulled up a chair in the room, stared into the air, unsure of what to say.

“I guess we need to conduct a debriefing on why you died, but the truth is… no, it’s clear that the situation was beyond your control.”

“…”

It was inevitable. That statement hit harder than any other.

Considering that no coincidence could affect the in-game outcome, the implications of this result were clear— the player who had engaged with Lancer had simply overturned the situation with sheer momentary skill and the capability to support it.

In other words, he had lost.

As Lancer chuckled incredulously, he added.

“…So, who was the user I was engaging with?”

“Dice.”

“Hmm.”

Yujin’s first disciple.

A monster wielding a blade sharpened with all her strength.

At that moment, Lancer could completely erase the dim images of last year from his mind— the memory of the second place finish among the four female users who had made it to the finals a year ago was all he had left of Dice.

Not anymore.

At this moment, she had risen to become one of the individuals he needed to be most wary of, and the outcome would not be in vain. Especially considering that the tide of battle could turn with even a moment’s cleverness.

And above all…

“I recall that the Dice user has no prior military service experience.”

A nodding head.

He didn’t know what to say. The former Secret Service agent had lost to someone who had never set foot in military affairs… but that thought was quickly forgotten. The individual had made it to the Final Championship on her own merit, so the opponent's background wasn’t practically that important.

As virtual reality began to be integrated into the world, it became common for individuals with no prior training to demonstrate professional skills. Dice was the testament to that.

Meanwhile, the conversation continued.

“What was it like? Did she stick to the basics and fundamentals? Or was it the opposite?”

“It was closer to maximizing unpredictable creativity based on solid fundamentals. Her driving skills were utterly insane. If we’re talking about urban warfare, she’s likely above a first-rate operator.”

“Hard to imagine.”

Ordinary users, let alone those accustomed to battles, generally avoided utilizing the terrain around them actively, let alone taking the lead in engagements. The situation and terrain would change every minute and every second.

All existing strategies were built on that fact, but if one were to encounter a principle of action that didn’t conform to that…

Well.

After a brief sigh, a hologram popped up in the air. It was the match result viewing that eliminated players would typically partake in. About ten minutes had passed since Lancer had been eliminated, and the total number of users had already dwindled to 43.

Of course, during that time, no Korean user had been eliminated.

As Lancer analyzed the kill log, he added.

“The Korean team has really come prepared.”

The kill log. And it was filled with skills, skills, and more skills…

Even if it wasn’t entirely due to skills, how much of the entire process of killing a single person could lack skill? How many had faced situations they had never experienced and tried to overcome them, only to be launched to the lobby?

This indicated that all Korean users had jumped onto a flow completely divorced from the so-called ‘meta.’ To accomplish that, they needed to know every element of the skills and understand when and how they operated as if it were second nature.

After a moment of contemplation, he quietly added.

“As more lessons accumulate, a picture of how to deal with them will emerge. Before all the matches of the Final Championship conclude, we must grasp the shape of that picture.”

“…Is that possible?”

“It must be.”

Otherwise, it would be too late.

Though he spoke, no answer came.

The first match was racing towards its conclusion.

“Now we’ve reached the latter stages of the match. Outside, the sandstorm is raging endlessly. There’s only about five minutes left until the kill zone completely narrows.”

“The remaining players are just Logan and Yujin, the two who have truly caused a storm in Apex Predator. I’m really looking forward to seeing how they’ll perform.”

A shallow silence filled Madison Square Garden, devoid of even cheers. Only the sound of the sandstorm raging outside and a low ominous background music that only the external viewers could hear.

In that breath-stopping tension, the two approached the massive hangar slowly. Among the many containers, off-road vehicles, various construction materials, and equipment haphazardly placed, only silence flowed.

With as many predictions as there were viewers, those discussing acrobatic battles leveraging the physical abilities of the players—specifically, those wishing for that—were the majority, while a few pessimistic viewers speculated that the victory or defeat would be concluded in a fleeting moment of boredom.

However, the moment Yujin and Logan set foot in the hangar, all those predictions vanished like a mirage.

“Oh, the two players. They are each… continuing to scout the surroundings and are placing something down. I have no clue what action they’re taking!”

Between the vehicle wheels.

Under the containers.

In the gaps between construction materials.

And anywhere there was a likelihood of a person passing by. It was a sight as if they were reflecting each other in a mirror. They moved in an irregular pattern, as if they had made an agreement beforehand, repeating similar actions.

In that moment, when the tension became palpable and blurred the lines between the virtual and the real,

—Swoosh!

Yujin carefully came to a halt at one spot, intently examining a particular point.

But the stillness didn’t last long. At that moment, she pulled out the sticky mine that had been waiting in her pouch and rolled it along the floor. The tracking mine, flying faster than one could imagine, made a sound as if a fuse had been lit the moment it touched the ground.

But in that moment—

“Cough!”

Bang!

Though no sound was made, a black object flew toward Yujin in a beautiful arc— a grenade. Yujin hastily aimed the gun she was holding into the air and pulled the trigger, striking the grenade dead-on.

The simultaneous detonations of the sticky mine and the grenade created two enormous explosions.

—Kwahng!

Both Yujin and Logan staggered back, suffering minor damage, while the tens, hundreds, and millions of viewers watching gasped in astonished cheers.

But that was hardly the end of it—as the grenade and sticky mine detonated, both players, having roughly deduced each other's positions, were soon thrust into full-blown combat.

Thus, the moment when the experiences and skills of these two began to unfold, countless spectators became utterly engrossed in the screen.

And among those watching this spectacle leisurely in the break room were two individuals.

“I wonder how many of the stakeholders will realize the true value of this engagement.”

“Even if they do, the probability of agents from the Ministry of Defense placing an embargo before they can elaborate on this battle is several times higher.”

“Well, that’s true.”

The hologram projector displayed the battle between Logan and Yujin without any time lag.

They shot, dodged, threw grenades, and closed or widened the distance. It was a fierce engagement with not even a sliver of an opening. The intensity reached a level where an average player caught in between would be shredded in mere seconds.

No one expected a 1:1 engagement to be this exhilarating, and conversely, a multitude of viewers erupted in excitement.

But this was not just a simple battle.

—Kwahhhng!

“What is happening! An explosion suddenly occurred from an empty spot! Yujin is engulfed in flames!”

“It’s not an empty spot; it’s a hidden trap… Either way, our youngest is really taking a beating.”

“Logan will probably end up like that soon enough.”

The two, well aware of each other's strategies, had their weapons aimed at one another.

Yujin was the first to take a hit, and as flames erupted into the air, bullets flew from across the way. Consequently, Yujin concealed herself behind a nearby cover—not hiding, but rather moving to a more distant cover while accepting some damage.

And at that moment, with a slight time lag, a grenade hidden between the covers Yujin had passed detonated, scattering shrapnel in every direction.

In other words, the moment she concealed herself behind the cover she had avoided, Yujin was set to be blown to pieces.

But even then, Lancer had not noticed the fact.

Yujin, seizing the opportunity of the explosion, had tossed a sticky mine near the spot where her opponent was hiding, and by the time Logan realized it, it was already too late.

“Wha—!”

Kaboom!

The tracking mine, springing up from beneath him, unleashed its superheated contents onto the ground, sending flames soaring over the hangar.

However, even as his shield rapidly diminished, Logan fired suppressive shots at the approaching Yujin without any hesitation. The breath-taking exchange, with not an inch given, was so taut that even the viewers watching it felt pressured.

Only a few—two or slightly more—could pierce through the essence of it.

“Let’s make a bet. I’ll bet that the youngest wins.”

“That’s too bad. I was going to bet on Yujin.”

“I think there’s no need for a bet where only the winner exists.”

“Isn’t it unnecessary to discuss the need for a bet while throwing out choices with such low odds?”

With her moist lips slightly parting, revealing sharp teeth, Lorenina chuckled, glancing at the screen.

The conclusions of the two were already heading in the same direction.

“Logan appears to have the upper hand on the surface, but looking closely, it seems our youngest is already figuring out where Logan is every second. To think she would avoid the shots…”

“She already has a complete grasp of the operational map.”

“Well, yes. While it’s not definitive, it seems she’s predicted where and how to detonate something to create effective variables.”

As she had said.

Logan had entered the Dark Zone for a shorter period than Yujin, and his time spent in Apex Predator was the same—most importantly, she had no one to teach, so she hadn’t bothered to delve deeply into the maps.

Whether she wanted to or not, Yujin had already completed an in-depth analysis of every map in that regard—this was concretized by the grenades that had fallen from the tilting container as the support had collapsed.

The impact of the container colliding with the ground had released the safety handle controlling the grenades, and now, multiple explosives were descending toward the ground like chestnuts.

The first grenade hit the ground. Logan kicked it away after it bounced once, and as the next two fell, he shot them, but as if that were also anticipated, the remaining one rolled slowly, landing right in front of him, completing the set.

—Kwahng!

“That was quite a spicy hit. Our youngest has had it too, though.”

“Logan probably took more significant damage.”

The shield of Logan quivered violently as the new Arctic model swayed.

But there was something more important.

Flames that were alive were approaching her.

“Oh, the Fire Snake.”

“Of all things, it had to be napalm; what a preference.”

As Logan was struggling with the grenades, the napalm trap set up in the high ground poured down onto Yujin.

Had that trap been triggered in the very early stages, Logan’s victory would have been all but assured, but unfortunately, the trap had only just fulfilled its duty moments before the end—and their positions were already known to each other.

The commentator added in a hurried voice.

“Oh no, Yujin! She’s running while only wearing her bulletproof vest! She’s quickly approaching Logan while engulfed in flames—!”

The moment her entire body ignited, she abandoned her primary weapon, ammunition, and explosives in an act of sheer defiance against common sense.

But the moment the raging napalm ignited the gunpowder within the bullets, causing the grenades to explode uncontrollably, and within thirty seconds, the bullets chambered in her firearm began to pop like popcorn, everyone understood the reason.

Of course, by that point, Yujin had long since evaded the bullets and was approaching Logan.

Owens continued.

“The longer one plays, the more they can grasp how daring they can become…”

While Logan’s sense of that boundary was still blurry, Yujin understood that this world was a game and accurately targeted that point.

Even if her entire body was ablaze, unlike reality, where she would have been expected to initiate immediate extinguishing efforts, Logan never once considered that Yujin, even while engulfed in flames, would charge in without hesitation for victory.

And Logan was not fast enough to instinctively evade the trajectory of the tactical knife hidden amidst the roaring flames and smoke—one wielded by a user.

How many seconds passed after that?

—Thud!

The burning tactical knife pierced through Logan’s chin and exited through his palate. With less than two seconds remaining before his HP converged to zero, Yujin finally seized victory.

Simultaneously, she collapsed to the ground.

Though she knew that tens of millions or more viewers were chanting her name…

“…I guess that strategy won’t work anymore.”

That was all Yujin worried about.

The first match of the Final Championship had thus concluded, one that would be talked about for years to come.